Officer Down
by Piazzolla Pie
Summary: Maura accidentally guns down Jane in the kitchen and struggles to deal with the consequences. Whoops. I would warn you that it'll eventually get a little bit gay, but we all know that's the only reason you're reading this, isn't it?
1. Seriously

**Author's Note:** This is the first thing I've ever posted on here, and it's obvious that I'm no writer, but putting a strange R&I-themed dream to words seemed like a good idea at four this morning. I'm sure you all know how that one goes. Unfortunately, all mistakes are my own, so please point them out! Any comments, reviews, criticism and even full-on hate is appreciated, thanks!**  
****Disclaimer:** If _Rizzoli & Isles _belonged to me in any way, I certainly wouldn't be spending my time _writing_ about them, would you?

* * *

"Seriously?" she groaned in disbelief as chocolate eyes darted wildly over the scene laid out before them, her brain struggling to make sense of what she saw. She afforded herself the luxury of letting her heavy eyelids slide shut, blissfully blocking everything out, if only for a few moments. But, like all good things, it was over before it had barely begun. Time to get back to reality.

"Like, _seriously_ seriously?" she croaked again, her disbelief gallantly standing aside to let anger, confusion and, more importantly, _pain_take the lead on this one.

"Oh, Jane, I..." drifted towards the detective's ears from somewhere across the expansive kitchen, barely above a whisper, but the dark-haired woman couldn't focus on its source through the fog clouding her vision. Suddenly, all she saw was white. All she _felt_ was white; a blistering, white heat jutting out of... of somewhere. Right side. No, left. Shoulder, maybe? Her entire body swam with pain, and she wasn't going to risk drowning in it by worrying about the specifics. She inhaled sharply through her nose, hissing out that same breath immediately. God, even breathing hurt. Using the very unpleasant sensations coursing through her body as an anchor to help keep her grounded, Boston P.D.'s finest clenched her jaw and straightened up against the door frame that, so far, had been doing a stand up job of, well, standing her up. With determination, Jane Rizzoli roused her eyes from their new home in the back of her skull and forced herself to meet the vacant gaze of the smaller woman opposite her.

Doctor Maura Isles, Jane's partner in anti-crime, stood in the corresponding doorway, frozen in horror, one hand clutching a sodden bath towel to her shaking body. It wasn't an awful sight, anyone would admit. The other hand, however, gripped a far less enticing appendage. Jane's gun.

"Shit," the detective muttered to herself, slowly letting the realisation sink in; Maura had shot her. Maura had actually _shot_ her.

The next few seconds felt like hours, and Jane would later swear that, even above the roar of blood rushing through her ears, she heard the soft thud of each water droplet as it slid from Maura's wet hair and splashed into the small puddle at her pedicured feet. A crimson pool of equal size gathered at Jane's own bare feet; hot, sticky blood trickling down her chest and dripping from the hem of her tank top in tandem with her erratic heartbeat. The empty bullet casing still spun across the floor at a leisurely pace, finally settling next to Bass' shell, who promptly retreated inside. He wasn't in the mood for this shit.

No more than twenty seconds could have possibly passed, but that was still enough time for Jane to wonder why Maura wasn't rushing to her side. Despite her less-than-living clientèle, Maura was a doctor, she must know that Jane needed help. Her stomach knotted as she entertained the racing thought of Maura not even caring. Had she _meant_ to hit her? Defeated, Jane let her legs buckle underneath her and slumped to the floor, unable to determine which stabbing pain hurt her the most.

"Maur, what the fuck?" Jane managed, voice cracking under the strain of merely speaking.

"Language," Maura chided absent-mindedly, still staring vacantly at the spot where Jane had previously been propped up.

"Seriously?" Jane managed one last time, unable to form a more coherent thought. Maura had just released a _bullet_ somewhere in Jane's body and she was getting on her for _swearing_? Was she fucking _kidding_? But this was clearly no joke. "Maura," Jane tried again, with a little more force behind it. Nothing. "_Maura_!"

"Hmm?" Maura hummed, before breathing in sharply, taking an unsteady step backwards as she blinked at the crumpled heap on the floor, frowning. "What?" she breathed. "Jane, your shirt. I, uh. I... Oh, _God_," the doctor choked, heart wrenching as the heavy weight of Jane's gun in her hand brought the memories of the last five minutes crashing back down on her like a tidal wave.

"Maura, what happened?" Jane asked meekly, feeling faint as her palm met the slick blood plastering her shirt. She needed to apply pressure to the wound, that much she knew, but as her fingers pressed into the soaked material to seek out her latest bullet hole, she realised she could barely feel a thing.

"Jane, you were gone, I didn't... I got out and I thought," Maura blurted. "Your belongings," she tried again between sobs, "your ugly shoes... were still here. I tried to c-call but your cell was right here, a-and... your gun..." The last two words a whisper. "Jane Rizzoli doesn't go anywhere without her gun," she finished, punctuating her hurried explanation with a hiccup.

"I only took Jo out to shi-" Jane started, but, much to Maura's approval, cut her sentence short as she glanced around in search of the little mutt, who was nowhere to be seen. If she'd had the strength, she might have shrugged. "I'm sorry," she offered.

Wait, why was _she_ the one apologising?

"Sorry?" Maura asked, incredulous. "You're _sorry_?" she repeated, voice raising in anger.

"Whoa," the wounded detective flinched as Maura tossed her hands in the air, almost losing the towel. Jane was all for talking with her hands, but the gun clasped tight in Maura's fist was making the notion seem a little less appealing.

"Jane, I thought they had _taken_ you!" she hissed through gritted teeth. "I thought they'd taken you away from me and I... I've never been so _terrified_ of anything in my entire _life_," the pathologist admitted weakly, her own knees giving way as she, too, dropped to the hardwood floor with a whimper, gun clattering to the ground beside her. Jane's expression immediately softened as she fought against the tears brimming in her dark eyes. "I saw someone moving outside the window, and I just..." Maura trailed off, unable to meet Jane's bleary gaze. "I'm sorry."

Despite everything, Jane smiled. She couldn't afford a large one, but it was definitely something she could work with. "Maura, look at me. Hey, look at me," she coaxed, desperately trying to get through to her colleague. "It's okay. _I'm_okay," she lied.

"Really?" the doctor looked up, golden eyes shining with hope and unshed tears.

"Yeah, it's not as bad as it looks, I've had worse rough-housing with Frankie" she nodded, which was partially true; she was right in assuming she'd only been hit in the shoulder, and it was what they called a through-and-through, though Jane was certain Maura would have a fancier term for the havoc she'd wrought on Jane's flesh. "You were just trying to protect me, Maura," the darker woman reminded her. "You fuckin' suck at it," she laughed, immediately regretting the painful outburst, but carried on gamely; the last thing Maura needed right now was a guilt trip, "but I know you didn't mean to hurt me." At that, Maura released a breath she hadn't realised she was holding. "That being said, Doctor Isles," Jane added, "I just might have to arrest you if you don't get over here and help me out with this," she used the remainder of her energy and gestured half-heartedly with her free hand to the sticky mess still slowly seeping through the fingers pressing against the wound.

"Oh. _Ohh_," Maura gasped, scampering across the floor to where Jane was huddled, almost losing her towel yet again.

"Yeah, _oh_," Jane mimicked with a smirk. That same smirk, however, was wiped from her lips just as quickly as it had formed when the good doctor really _did_lose the towel. "Umm," she mumbled awkwardly, averting her eyes as Maura's godly form draped over her. Ever the gentleman, even in the face of death.

"Jane, we're both girls," Maura stated flatly, like she honestly meant nothing beyond the bare bones of the fact. Jane would have made a mental note on how there was nothing _girlie_ about her friend's body if Maura hadn't chosen that moment to press her previously discarded bath towel firmly against Jane's shoulder.

"Son of a _bitch_!" Jane howled as lightning struck her right behind the eyes, her long body writhing as she kicked her bare heels into the ground. Unabashed, Maura pressed herself flush against Jane as she groaned, tenderly cupping a perfectly-sculpted cheekbone until the taller woman's breathing evened out.

"Too hard?" Maura frowned into the detective's side, her damp hair further ruining Jane's soiled tank top.

"Ya think?" Jane seethed. "You're really not used to working with the living, huh, Doc? You gotta remember that some of us have these things called _feelings_."

"Hmph," the blonde pouted, thinking she was doing a marvelous job of coping with this unexpected situation. She really did need to take a closer look to assess the damage, though; there truly was a lot of blood staining her beautiful flooring.

Maura carefully untangled herself from Jane's bloodied torso and shifted her weight to her knees, attempting to stand up without further injuring Jane, who winced as she turned away once more, determined not to stare at the only thing that brought her even an ounce of comfort.

"Jane, come on," the doctor told her patient softly, sighing as the detective shook her dark curls. "We need to get you up so I can take a look. I may have just showered, but do you know how much bacteria is already breeding on that wet towel?" she explained, trying to make Jane see reason.

"Ughh," Jane scrunched up her face in distaste and resigned herself to being eased up from the floor, Maura struggling under her near-dead weight, as little as it was. "Where are we going?" Jane whined as she was lead across the kitchen, and groaned as Maura inclined her head towards the well-lit island in the middle of the room. "You want me to get up on that _slab_?" Jane hissed, trying to look Maura in the eyes and nowhere else.

"Yep," Maura replied with a slight nod.

"Will you at least put on some _clothes_?" Jane asked, exasperated.

"Nope," Maura replied again, this time with a slight shake of her head.

Jane had a feeling this was going to be a long night.


	2. Stiff

**Author's Note:** Wow, thank you all _so_ much for the encouragement you've given me already, I honestly wasn't expecting any at all, especially since this is my first fic.  
So, I woke up very early this morning with the _Bin Frights_ (which I may explain once the panic dies down) and decided to carry this on a little further, _sober_, so it's bound to be a disappointment. As always, all horrendous mistakes are mine, please point them out - I'll love you for it. I could really do with a Beta, come to think of it. Does anyone actually read these notes?

I know my poor interpretation of the characters is pretty two-dimensional, and the plot so far is a bit iffy, but please let me know what you think, I'm very new to this and beratement is _sexy_.

* * *

Jane barely bit back a yelp as she was dumped unceremoniously onto the cold, hard surface of Maura's kitchen counter top. Of all the kitchen table scenarios she'd dared to let her mind dredge up, not once was bleeding to death a prominent feature. Nor was - what _was_ that? A pizza crust? - _stuff_ sticking to the blood that caked her only change of clothing. The detective soon forgot the offending matter as Maura hauled the brunette's legs up to join her torso, decimating a rather expensive-looking vase in the process, various shards of glass skittering into the sink.

"Jeez, M, do you wanna be more careful, or...?" Jane mumbled, clearly to herself, as the doctor pointedly ignored her in favour of swiping God-knows-what off the polished surface behind her patient. Jane wasn't sure she wanted to know what it was that Maura tried to shake from the back of her hand, having no sleeves to wipe it on. Instead, she tried to concentrate on pressing the disease-ridden towel against her gunshot wound, just like Maura had shown her.

It hurt, _Christ_ it hurt, but, unlike several minutes ago, she could now flex the fingers on her left hand without her eyes rolling back into their respective sockets. _It's a start_, Jane thought. _It has to be_.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Maura's warm arms slipped around Jane's waist, snapping her attention back to the dire situation at hand. Before pain and dread could resume their tight grip on her chest, she felt her body being cradled against Maura's own bare chest as she was slowly lowered down into a fully horizontal position on the counter, much more gracefully this time around, she managed to note with a small sigh of relief. Jane almost cried out at the loss of contact as Maura gently pulled her arms free, but barely had time to miss it as a soft hand stroked her cheek while another slid behind her head, cushioning it against the hard surface with what could have been a dish towel. It could have been anything, for all Jane cared, humming under her breath as Maura's fingers ran through her dark curls, dispersing some of the intense pressure in her skull and making everything seem a little more bearable. _Perhaps too bearable_, she mused, but the thought dissolved as quickly as it had formed.

"Jane, you need to let me look." Maura's face swam into focus above her, offering up a weak smile. Jane, after taking a moment to figure out why her carer was upside down, returned a feeble grin.

"Uhh _huh_," she agreed with what she hoped was a nod, but wasn't entirely sure if she'd been successful; she felt her head move up and down, but on the _inside_. This was unlikely to go down in history as the most positive of omens...

"That was easier than expected," Maura narrowed her eyes at the woman beneath her. "_Too_easy. Jane? Jane, look at me. How do you feel?"

"Like you shot me because you were scared someone was going to shoot me!" Jane snorted. Maura didn't laugh. She really needed to call for an ambulance. Now.

Jane let out a mewling sound of protest as Maura untangled her fingers and moved across the kitchen towards the phone, intent on getting Jane to hospital as soon as humanly possible. The detective hissed, dark brows knitting together as the overhead light Maura had previously been blocking stabbed viciously at her eyes.  
"Oww, fuckin' _oww_!" she wailed, thrashing her head to the side, out of the light's path. Maura, who was hastily rattling off details into the phone by now, looked over her shoulder and flashed her the worst reassuring smile Jane had ever seen. The detective wanted to roll her eyes, but remembered just in time that they were sore because of that bastard light. _Close call_, she mentally patted herself on the back, screwing her eyes shut just in case the lamp tried anything funny.

When Jane finally forced her tired eyes open again, sobering very slightly, she found them drifting towards the rear of her colleague's stark naked form without any obvious instruction from her brain. _Why was Maura naked again? _Jane racked her brains, still feeling a little giddy, before coming to the conclusion that _why hadn't she been paying attention until now? _was a far more important question to ponder. Maura's generous curves certainly were pleasing to look at, but, even in her current state, Jane still tried to convince herself that she'd never put much thought into it before now. With a pitiful amount of effort, Jane dropped her eyes to the floor, focusing instead on the doctor's slender ankles; still as gorgeous as ever, even without being strapped into a pair of Jimmy Choos. The homicide detective watched the play of well-defined muscle under the smooth skin of Maura's calves with lazy admiration as her favourite coroner bounced on the balls of her feet, busy rummaging through a kitchen drawer. A heavy, unfamiliar feeling settled in the pit of Jane's stomach, worsening as her bleary eyes crept higher up the backs of Maura's toned thighs.

Jane needed a distraction before someone secured her a seat in Hell.

"Maur, you think this is the best time to be making a _snack_?" Jane teased, spluttering as her hoarse voice cracked at the last word.

"_Jane_," the medical examiner reprimanded, using a jutting hip bone to close the drawer. "Even _I_can't patch you up with my bare hands," Maura reminded, "I just need one more thing."

"Hey, _hey_! Do... Do you keep your dead people tools in the _cutlery drawer_?" Jane shrieked in disbelief, craning her head as far as her aching neck would allow, desperately trying to see where the bundle of shiny instruments in the crook of Maura's arm had come from. "The same cutlery drawer I got my _fork_from?" she growled.

"You ate with your hands, Jane," Maura reminded her, dismissing the question.

"_So_?" Jane cried in exasperation, abandoning the blood-drenched towel against her chest to slam both palms onto the counter top. "That's not the _point_, I still touc-" she began to argue, but immediately sank her teeth into her tongue as Maura spun around, resigning Jane to face full-frontal nudity.

This time, Jane stared.

Her head literally snapped up as her eyes fixed on the stark contrast of her own dark blood smeared over Maura's pale chest. _She looks like some mad scientist holding those tools_, Jane mused, before realising that was stating the obvious on the best of days. No, she looked more like some wild warrior woman, Golden Fleece of a mane still damp and unkempt, taut body painted with the blood of her enemies. It was so _barbaric_, so... unbelievably _hot_.

"I wonder if I'll get a good seat," Jane murmured, letting her eyes rake over the doctor's chest as that inexplicable feeling returned to set up camp somewhere South of her navel with a jolt.

"Hmm?" Maura asked, not quite catching the tail end of Jane's outburst. But Jane wasn't listening. All her attention was focused solely on Maura's body as she padded towards her patient, instruments in hand. Her breasts were so perfect, _God_, and so much... _bigger_. Jane angled her chin towards her own pair, frowning. _Damn_.

"Oh, yes," Maura agreed, face scrunching in sympathy as Jane blinked up at her, cheeks flushing with what little blood she still possessed. "I'm so glad I didn't ruin my dress," the doctor confessed, looking mortified at the mere thought of it as she picked at a sticky fleck of blood with disdain.

Jane sighed with relief, beyond grateful that Maura had completely misinterpreted the comparison Jane had made, and let out a little giggle. She was beginning to feel dizzy again, and idly wondered how many ketchup bottles she could fill using the various pools of blood collecting around the kitchen. If she was specific about the kind of bottle she had envisioned, there was no doubt in her mind that Maura could answer her question in a heartbeat. But the thought was soon abandoned as the doctor dropped her instruments to the counter with a resounding _clang_.

"Okay," Maura decided, "time to take a look." Linking Jane's imbrued fingers with her own, she gently lifted her patient's hand away and began peeling back the bloodied rag. "Oh, _Jane_," Maura breathed as she took in the sight of the damage she'd caused, blinking away the moisture muddying her vision.

"Is it ba- _aaahh!" _Jane cried out as her doctor touched a perfectly-manicured nail to the edge of her wound through the hole in her shirt, fingers clasping the wrist of her free arm.

"Jane, I'm no surgeon, but if we don-" Maura began, voice and hands shaking violently.

"You couldn't even lie to me just this once, could you, Maur?" Jane cut her off, turning her head to the side in the hopes of masking her pain and fear from the woman leaning over her. She could tell that Maura was nervous, and Jane didn't want to lay any more doubts or worries on her mind, especially when said woman was now lowering an enormous pair of fabric scissors to the gaping wound in her shoulder.

"I just need to get this _clothing_out the way," Maura hurried to explain as she watched Jane's eyes widen in terror, though still managing to show her distaste in Jane's choice of shirt, if one could even label the dirty scrap of material as such.

"'kay," Jane exhaled, turning her head again, allowing Maura more space to work. She strained her eyes upward, trying to get a glimpse of the metallic horrors Maura was yet to prod her injury with; a small bottle of rubbing alcohol lay spilled out on its side, a welcome sight if ever Jane saw one, her mind drifting back to the leftover food she knew was plastered to her elbows and other unmentionable areas. _What else? _Jane cringed, eyes flicking back to the tools. The next item may have been some kind of staple gun, but the detective was convinced that it was an olive pitter. _People actually own those things? _Jane scoffed to herself, but instantly stiffened as she laid eyes on item number three.

The surgical steel glittered under the harsh beams of the overhead lamp, sending racking shivers down Jane's spine.

"Jane?" Maura asked softly, frowning as she followed Jane's intense gaze to the scalpel on the counter top. "_Oh_," she uttered, realising Jane's history with such implements wasn't as pleasant as her own. "I don't have to use it, I don't think," the coroner blurted, "I just h-had... in case... _Jane_, I don't know what to _do_," Maura choked, pressing her face into Jane's bloody throat.

In an instant, all of Jane's pain and fear was stamped down into a distant ache at the base of her skull as the sobbing form clutched to her chest took precedence.

"Maur, you're doing great," Jane soothed, gently brushing Maura's golden hair to one side, "we just need to get this figured for a minute, the EMTs will be here before you know it, I promise," she reassured her with a little squeeze from the hand still knitted with Maura's.

"Yeah?" Jane felt rather than heard the trembling doctor mumble into her neck.

"Yeah, let's get this done," Jane tightened her hand around Maura's once more. "Now, I didn't go to a fancy medical school or anything like _some people_, but... shouldn't I be keeping this elevated or something, y'know, instead of lying on my back on your table like a stiff?" Jane helpfully pointed out. Maura glanced up from her refuge under Jane's dimpled chin and looked at her like she was being utterly ridiculous, until it dawned on her that the detective was right. What the _hell_had gotten into her? She could barely focus. "I'm not a corpse yet, Maur," Jane grumbled, but was careful to keep her tone light.

"You could be," Maura breathed.

"Yeah, M, maybe if I'm a good girl and wish _really_hard?" Jane drawled in response, trying to lighten the mood.

"You know that's not what I meant," Maura snapped, causing Jane to flinch. "I could have... I..." she trailed off, avoiding looking at Jane altogether.

"But you _didn't_," Jane finished for her. "You're saving my damn life here, not performing my autopsy." Jane said as firmly as she could manage.

They stayed pressed together in silence for several moments, the life continuing to trickle from Jane's body.

"Maura?" Jane finally whispered. She felt the body cradled against her shift slightly in response. "Maura, would... would you be the one to do it?" Jane asked in a voice that sounded small and far away, "y'know, w-when..." she trailed off, but picked up again as she felt Maura's breath catch in her throat as she realised what Jane was asking her to do, the severity of the situation finally colliding hard with her gut. "I can't stand the thought of anyone else h-having their hands on me, b-being inside me like that," Jane confessed, neither woman quite realising what she was really trying to tell her.

Maura didn't say anything, her body stiffening against Jane's.

"Maura?" Jane probed gently, "Maur, look at me," she pleaded, exhausting the last of her energy as she tugged the smaller woman further up her body, cupping her hand under Maura's chin, leaving her with little choice but to look at the detective.

Wiping a smudge of blood from Maura's chin with her thumb, Jane realised that the woman above her had to be the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. _Why have I never noticed these? _Jane wondered in awe as she let her thumb trail over the dusting of freckles across the bridge of Maura's delicate nose. Her dark eyes searched Maura's for some kind of sign that this was okay, but she found nothing. Golden-green orbs were already glazing over, staring right through Jane as if she'd never even existed. The detective had seen the same look in victims' eyes a hundred times over as they retreated into themselves, blocking out the world around them. Maura was slipping away, and Jane refused to let her go when she felt as if she'd only just found her.

Jane's lips crashed against Maura's with surprising force, but the blonde barely flinched at the assault, putting up no resistance as the darker woman kissed her.

_Maura, please_, Jane begged silently, willing the rigid form in her arms to respond, to do _anything_. She kissed her again, softer this time, the taste of spearmint toothpaste tingling against her lips. Her heart stopped dead as she thought she could feel Maura start to kiss her back, but it was brutally jolted back to life as the doctor wrenched away from her and was on the kitchen floor before Jane could blink, nails splintering into the wood as she vomited violently.

"_Shit_," Jane hissed through gritted teeth, slamming her head back onto the counter in frustration as Maura continued to retch. _Shit, shit, shit._

That was _so_ not how this was meant to happen.


	3. Soregasm

**Author's Note (which I suggest you read before I freak out): **Much to my own chagrin, I've only watched Rizzoli & Isles through once, and this sorry excuse for a story is loosely based on a Rizzles-centric _dream_ I had. I'm writing it as I _remember_ it, not as I would actually like it to be. If I had my way, they'd probably already be married by now, but I told myself I was going to stick to the dream, and I... _completely_ chickened out. I wrote something utterly _horrific_ yesterday morning, and I honestly felt queasy as I typed, so I cut out the entire mid section of this chapter – that's why it's so short. Apologies if it doesn't flow very well and something seems amiss, but it's better than reading the alternative version.  
**Beta(s): **I desperately needed breezie531 to talk me out of writing this stuff, but I found the resolve to hit the delete button on my own and decided to just throw this out there before I changed my mind _again_. All mistakes are my own.  
"**_Spoilers!_":** None that I'm aware of, I was just having a _River Song_ moment.

* * *

Jane awoke to the soft sound of her own name reverberating through the silence as it was sighed into her neck, a set of long eyelashes fluttering against her jaw.  
"_Jane_," warm lips repeated, pressing lightly to her clammy skin as they tentatively drew the detective back from the brink of unconsciousness.

Jane struggled to remember what was going on, unable to comprehend anything beyond the soft form nestled at her side, gentle breaths stirring the loose strands of hair resting on her tanned cheek. The reddish tinge to the insides of her eyelids lead Jane to believe that she was still sprawled out under the harsh kitchen lights, and the tacky feeling of cool blood congealing under her palm confirmed such assumptions. Flashes of the night's events flooded in through her nose and mouth as the battle to breathe commenced, their acrid taste sticking to the back of her throat.

"Maur?" Jane whispered, fear and uncertainty evident in her voice. The last thing she remembered was Maura wrenching away from her when... When she _kissed_ her. _Fuck_.

But Maura was here now, still-naked body keeping Jane's shivers at bay as she burrowed her face into Jane's throat.

The corners of Jane's mouth twitched upward as she felt Maura place a chaste kiss along her jawline, but immediately tensed as the pathologist's lips brushed further along her skin, settling at her weakened pulse point. Jane opened her mouth to speak, but a strangled whimper was the only sound to escape her lips as the sharp edges of Maura's teeth grazed over the sensitive flesh of her throat.

"Maura, wh-what are-" The detective breathed, but was silenced before she could finish the thought. It was Maura's turn to kiss Jane.

Jane saw stars, glow-in-the-dark and stuck to the ceiling, as Maura's lips pressed tenderly against her own. Her lips were soft, _perfect,_ and Jane gladly tossed aside the fleeting notion that there's _no_ way this could be happening as Maura sighed happily into her mouth.

They kissed for what felt like hours. It was sweet and slow, full of meaning; full of everything they should have said and done years ago. At least, it was until a low, primal growl rumbled in the back of Jane's throat. Maura didn't wait for permission; her tongue forced its way between Jane's parted lips, hungrily exploring her mouth. Teeth waged war against lips as the doctor grabbed a fist full of Jane's hair, tugging playfully as the woman trapped below her writhed in ecstasy.

"I think I understand what you mean now," Maura exhaled against Jane's swollen lips, "about me being inside you..."

"_Maura_," Jane whimpered into the blonde's mouth, hips bucking involuntarily at the thought of Maura demonstrating her grasp of the concept, but instead of letting the doctor treat her patient, she pulled aside to look at her. _Is this really what you want? _Jane asked, letting her eyes do the talking.

There was something about the way Maura looked at her; the slight golden syrup glow to her skin, the licentious glint of amber as she wrestled Jane back down to the counter with her gaze. Maura Isles was back. _Her_ Maura. Autonomous and consummate, Doctor Isles makes no mistakes. This was to be no exception.

In response to the detective's unspoken question, Maura arched back and slung her leg over both of Jane's in one fluid motion, straddling her narrow hips.  
"_Jesus_," Jane murmured, drinking in the sight of the goddess above her as she sat back on her heels, grinding against the brunette's abdomen at an agonisingly slow pace. "_God_, Maura," she breathed again, not quite knowing what to do with her bloodied hands. Both women let out a groan of pure pleasure as Jane felt her tank top ride up, a warm, delicious wetness pressing hard into the taut flesh of her stomach.

Jane grasped at Maura's gyrating hips with slick palms, pulling the blonde further into her as the doctor ground harder, painted nails biting into the olive skin of her lover's forearms. Maura was moaning without restraint, panting Jane's name as she threw back her head, and the woman beneath her had to bite down on her bottom lip to stop herself from coming right then.  
"Maura... I can't..." Jane whimpered, the delectable pressure threatening to overwhelm her before Maura even _touched_ her. "Maur... _Fuuu_-!"

* * *

Jane suddenly felt the hard belly-slap of a first time dive.

If it weren't for the ensemble of tubes and wires ensnaring her sweat-covered body, she would have bolted straight up in the bed.

"Janie!" Angela Rizzoli bawled, almost knocking her chair over as she rushed to her daughter's side.

"..._Ma_?" Jane rasped, squinting against the cold light filtering through the blinds of her hospital room window as she let her mind acknowledge what had happened, small details trickling back to her one at a time. _A flash of blue light through the dark window panes. Laughing as melted cheese dripped from her pizza and into her lap. Jo Friday cowering on the driveway, legs caught up in her trailing leash. A skinny arm lifting her body weight, stiff as an upper lip. Maura's dimpled grin as she..._

_Maura._

A dull ache emanated from both her shoulder and between her thighs at the thought of the doctor, of that _dream_ she'd just awoken from and, amidst everything, Jane had the good grace to look a little embarrassed.

"Jane, I'm here, sweetie," crooned her mother, smoothing over Jane's unruly hair and easing her up into a more comfortable position. "You're gonna be alright now, everything's just _fine_, you're... _look at you_," Angela fussed, pressing the back of her hand to Jane's damp forehead.

"M-ma, I'm... alright," the injured woman attempted, voice clawing its way up her parched throat. "_Ma_!" she croaked again as Angela fished in her purse and produced a lint-covered thermometer, jarring it under Jane's tongue, clearly not trusting the various beeps and clicks of the medical machinery signaling that her daughter was no longer on the verge of death.

"You're in no state to argue with your mother," Angela patronised, repeatedly jabbing at the _nurse call_ button. Jane didn't think for one second that her mother's concern was anything besides genuine, but, she had to admit, the fretting woman _was_in her element.

"Mom, I'm not _sick,_" Jane groused, the thermometer between her teeth spelling different words to the ones she spoke, "I got _shot_!"

"That _damn _corpse-cutter!" Angela spat. "And she was always such a nice girl, too, but didn't I say? Didn't I _always_ say, Frank?" She waved in the vague direction of her husband for confirmation, who until now had been silent, giving his daughter the space she needed. Knowing better than to disagree with his wife, he simply nodded in weary resignation. "_See_? I always said there was something just _wrong_ about her," Angela gloated.

"Maura. Where is...?" Jane began, trailing off as a click of heels announced the nurse's arrival.

A wide grin spread across her mother's face like chocolate on a toddler.

"Ohh, don't you worry about that, sweetie," Angela beamed. "They got her for this."

* * *

Thank you all for reading, and I'd appreciate it if you'd let me know if you think I should continue, I'm feeling unsure about it now.

PM me if you want to know what Jane _really _dreamt about, you sick, sick puppies. I love you.


	4. Sharp Shooter

**Author's Note:** So, I sort of forgot about this, huh? I lost everything I'd written in a fire, blah blah blah, but then promised breezie531 that I'd update this morning, so here I am, writing this chapter as I wait for my train. Which hasn't showed up. You know what? Fuck you, Arriva Trains Wales, I'm going to the beach instead.

* * *

Jane was worried. In fact, she just might go so far as to say she was _terrified_. Even after spending all of her adult life on the force, facing down countless criminals and bearing witness to unspeakable evil, nothing could prepare her for what was coming through that door.

_Three sharp knocks._

"Come in, Maura," Jane called weakly, being mindful of her sling as she straightened out her baggy shirt in an attempt to look more presentable. There was no stopping it now.

"Hello, Jane."

And there she was, looking as radiant as ever. Uncomfortable, but radiant nonetheless. Maura had always looked the way Jane wished she felt; beautiful and confident, with an irrefutable answer for everything, but now she looked... broken. She was still beautiful, her skin glowing, and nothing would persuade Jane to think otherwise, but there was a hollow echo in her gaze, her eyes flat and filled with dust. And that dress — _damn_, that dress...

Maura already had enough expensive outfits in her wardrobe to clothe a small, Eastern European village for an entire year, and Jane was sure that the cost of this particular dress rivaled that of her latest medical bill, but there was something familiar about it. Had she seen Maura wearing it before? She didn't think so. It was the acidic orange of the fabric, the way the belt cinched in her narrow waist, how the — oh, _God_! Was she? She _was_...

Yes, whether it was intentional or merely the subconscious product of guilt, Maura had decided to dress herself in a prison jumpsuit.

The anxiety over this visit that had been plaguing Jane for days on end was gone in a flash as she let loose a loud, unbridled cackle.

"Jane?" Maura was frozen in the doorway, looking absolutely horrified — an increasingly common sight for Jane, so it would seem. "What is it that you find so amusing?" she asked, craning her head around in search of the joke.

"Oh, it's nothing," Jane took a few seconds to compose herself, "I'm just happy to see you." And she was; despite everything, she missed Maura more than her out of whack limb. "I like your dress, it's... interesting," she clenched her jaw as what may as well have been laughing gas filled her lungs to capacity.

"Thank you," Maura smiled nervously. In the two weeks they'd spent apart, the doctor still hadn't developed a sense of humour.

It had been a very difficult fortnight for both women, to say the least. Jane barely listened as her surgeon explained in gruesome detail how her clavicle had practically exploded when the bullet had clipped, embedding shards of bone in her pectoral-something-or-other, told her all about the long-term effects of nerve and muscle damage, and that her severe blood loss had lead to other complications that she didn't really want to think about; she had her mother to fuss over that. Jane was too busy worrying about Maura.

The detective had been furious when she heard that Maura'd quite happily turned herself in at the station, refusing to release any circumstancial details; she told them that she'd shot Jane, _on purpose_. Apparently, the doctor had neglected to mention the fact that, while she had indeed shot Jane, she was under the impression that she was facing an attacker, possibly even her best friend's kidnapper. In Maura's mind, she had to be punished. She'd hurt Jane, and nothing beyond that mattered anymore.

It had taken two-hundred-and-thirty-seven grueling hours, six-hundred-and-twenty miligrams of morphine and a combined fifty-seven fluid ounces of tears and vomit before this little problem could be rectified.

Even after Jane had made a statement convincing everyone that it had been an accident, it had taken a little more than that to bring around the medical examiner herself. More specifically, a photograph; taken on New Year's Eve when the pair had escaped from a dreadfully festive party, shrieking hand-in-hand as they ran for their social lives. Upon bumping into an old flame they'd once bailed on — neither could specifically remember where they recognised the man from, but came to the (il)logical conclusion that he'd most certainly tried to date at least one of them — they'd drunkenly clambered into a photobooth to hide, giggling behind twitching curtains as the man passed by.

The photo had been a prominent feature in Jane's wallet ever since, dog-eared and well-loved; Jane was more attached to it than she would ever say, but she would be happy if she never saw the thing again, as long as they were given the chance to take another.

Jane wasn't certain if that's what had done the trick, or if Korsak had, upon her suggestion, verbally beaten some sense into the woman, but whatever it was, it had worked. Just three days later, what should have been a tower of paperwork had been miraculously filled in and filed away — Jane suspected she'd be owing a few favours after this — because here Maura was, loitering at the far side of the room, looking disjointed and so very out of her comfort zone.

"Welcome," she blew a strand of hair from her eyes, dispersing the last of her giggles. "Are you really gonna make me yell across the room?" Jane arched an eyebrow as Maura muttered an apology and scuttled closer to the bed. Jane didn't think she'd ever seen Maura Isles _scuttle_.

"So, how are you feeling, Jane?" Maura eventually asked, immediately scolding herself for making it sound like such a routine, unfeeling question. She was trying not to let her emotions get the better of her, for both their sakes, but, truth be told, she was absolutely terrified of what Jane's answer might be.

"Eh, you know," Jane's face did all the shrugging, "I've been better, as you might have noticed." Maura nodded, not really knowing how else to respond to that. "I'll be glad to get out of here, though. Don't get me wrong, they're taking good care of me, and Ma's been great, but you know her," she made a sock puppet-esque motion with her hand, "yap, yap, yap. I just want some peace."

"I'm sorry, would you like me to..." Maura trailed off, secretly hoping that Jane would jump in and beg her not to leave, "...go?" she finished uncertainly, eyes fixed on something to her victim's left. Because that's what she was, wasn't she? Her _victim_.

"Nah," Jane's smile was lazy, but genuine. "Pull up a chair, Doc," with effort, she motioned to a duo of uncomfortable-looking hospital chairs next to the bed as she shifted to sit sideways on the sterile mattress. She felt drained of life, and it showed; her usually olive complexion was unnaturally pale, the whites of her bones shining through her skin. The image haunted Maura from the corner of her eye as she turned to adjust her seat, and she could barely bring herself to look back at the woman. But Jane was her ghost, and she must face her down.

"Are you managing alright?" Maura grimaced on Jane's behalf as she wrestled with the sheets.

"I've been working on using just my right hand," she offered Maura a reassuring smile. "Not that I have much choice," she added with a deliciously low chuckle, "but it's going well, see?" the detective thumbed through a stack of magazines and old case files that she'd insisted Frost brought in for her to look over. Naturally, Korsak had turned down the request, muttering something about her needing to rest up and keep her mind off work, but, even from her hospital bed, Barry was too afraid to refuse his partner.

"Jane, your penmanship is still awful," Maura narrowed her eyes at the scrawl slanting across the proffered notebook in Jane's outstretched hand. "You shouldn't be forcing yourself to write with anything but your dominant hand," she shook her curls for emphasis. "Now, I know that, on average, only eighteen-point-eight percent of left-handed people's language functions are controlled by the right-hemisphere of the brain," Maura began.

"On average, huh?" Jane interjected with a smirk.

"But it's still a dangerous thing to attempt," Maura continued, ignoring the brunette entirely. "Do you want to develop a stammer, Jane?" she shot Jane a look — one of _those_ looks.

"What am I supposed to do?" she tossed her hand into the air, along with the note pad, which took a nose-dive to the floor, pages fluttering like a featherless bird. "Ahh, shit," her anger fizzled away as soon as it hit the lino, and she struggled to bite back a laugh as she caught sight of Maura, who was looking as if Jane had picked up a chair and smashed her way through the window, not dropped her writing pad.

"Jane..." she wasn't sure if that was meant to sound soothing or serve as some kind of warning.

"Sorry... Uhh, would you mind?" Jane inclined her head towards the notebook at Maura's feet, feeling sheepish for having to ask for it back.

"Of course," Maura fumbled on the ground for the paper, but kept her eyes lowered for a few moments, even after she'd snatched up the book. Jane couldn't even reach down to the floor without wincing in pain, and, after two whole minutes of blissful ignorance, Maura remembered the reason why.

"Gimme," Jane wiggled her fingers impatiently, grabbing at the pad. "I gotta practise," she balanced the paper on her thigh and began scribbling enthusiastically. Maura was certain it was just to piss her off.

"If you need to write something, I can do it for you," Maura was the definition of exasperated.

"No way," Jane continued to marr the paper's surface with her pen, "once I'm through with all this, both of these babies will be hitting targets better than Billy the Kid!" she looked down affectionately at her hands. "Ahh got a horsch and the Wescht is wiiide," she drawled, pen now gripped between her teeth, "_ptchuuu!_" she grinned to herself at the thought of wielding twin pistols, probably wider than was necessary.

"Puh... _chu_?" Maura repeated mechanically, brows knitting together.

"Yeah," Jane spat out her pen with an indignant look, like it should have been obvious, even to the doctor, "ya know," she cocked an imaginary revolver in demonstration, "_ptchuuu!_"

"Yes, I suppose I see what you mean," she fudged, but the coroner thought she had some idea of where Jane was going with this. "Actually, William Hen-"

"Don't wanna know!" Jane cut in, heart still set on living out her little Western fantasy. "Whatever it is, I don't want to know," she shook her head as firmly as her shoulder would allow.

"I was merely going to inform you that Wi-"

"Lalala! Can't hear y- _nooo_," Jane howled when she realised she could only cover one of her ears. "Aaand the moment's gone," she sighed, slumping sideways against her itchy pillows. "Wow, way to shoot me down, Maur."

Silence.

_Laugh or cry?_ Jane silently pondered when she realised the implications of what she'd just said. Luckily for Jane, the medical examiner chose this awkward moment to suddenly sprout a funny bone and burst out laughing, painted fingers gripping the hem of her guilty-looking dress as tears formed in her screwed-shut eyes. The detective followed suit, clutching at her shoulder as the giggles kept on coming in relentless waves. After all, it _was_ a good pun.

"I di-didn't... I didn't even mean to _saaay that!_" Jane wailed between snorts, swatting at Maura who continued to laugh.

"It's funny because I really did shoot you!" Maura roared hysterically, voice a little too shrill for Jane's liking as she doubled over in her chair.

"Maur?" Jane struggled upright and tentatively laid a hand on the blonde's knee as her fits of laughter suddenly gave way to choked, gutteral sobs that racked her entire body, tears spilling freely down her blotched cheeks. _This isn't good_.

"I'm fine," Maura waved Jane off, covering her face with her free hand as she swallowed back another sob. "Just stop- Jane, I am _fine_," she grasped Jane's wrist tight as the brunette tried to comfort her again.

"You're not fine," Jane told her calmly, gently tugging her arm free of Maura's vice-like grip. "And neither am I," she admitted slowly.

This made Maura look up from the refuge of her delicate fingers, eyes still shining with tears.

"Look at us, we're not," the detective mirrored Maura's famous you-should-know-better-than-that glare, though there was a softness to her gaunt features. "But that doesn't mean that we won't be," she brought her hand down to rest on the doctor's thigh for a third time, and Maura allowed it, "we just need to work through this. There are... _certain things_ we gotta discuss," a little colour finally tinted her pallid cheeks, "and I _know_ you're sorry, I really do, but all of this will come up when it's the right time. I just... I can't do it right now, I just really..." she fought off a sigh, "really... need to _pee_," she finished, sounding shocked at her own revelation, like it had suddenly snuck up on her from out of nowhere.

"Ohh!" Maura scooted back in her chair like Jane had announced that her waters had broken.

"What, human bodily functions are suddenly unnatural to you, now?" Jane was incredulous, rolling her eyes as Maura actually seemed to be taking a moment to think it over as she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Of course not," she eventually answered, awkwardly rising to her feet, like she was unsure if she should be getting up to help. "Do you...?" Maura offered.

"Hah, I think I got _that_ part, M," she snickered as Maura half-crouched to sit again.

"Yes, right, of course," Maura still didn't fully sit down.

"May I have this next dance?" Jane held out her hand, swinging her legs with a playful grin.

"Of course," Maura repeated, returning the smile as she took Jane's hand, carefully lowering her down to solid ground, "it would be my pleasure," she even threw a little twirl into the mix, easing the tension that had been breaking her back.

"Why thank you, Doctor Isles," Jane swooned as Maura helped her shuffle towards the bathroom door, "I'll take it from here," she winked, and the pathologist reluctantly released her dance partner.

As Maura attempted to settle back into what truly was an incommodious chair, her eyes drifted over to the conveniently-placed scribble pad perched on the edge of the bed, Jane's angular handwriting carved into the open page.

_'I forgive you.'_

Maura cracked a small smile as she read the words again, feeling relief beyond explanation. This didn't fix everything, and she knew it. This certainly wasn't the end; they'd talk about it, because God knows there was a lot to discuss, but it would happen when they were ready. For now, she was content with emptying her thoughts out into a nice, quiet space in the back of her mind and locking the door behind her, leaving her free to listen to Jane curse and yell from the bathroom.

"Umm, Maur?" Jane's muffled voice called out from behind the door.

"What is it, Jane?"

"I, uhh, think I might need a little... help."

_Well, this should be fun._

* * *

_Ptchuuu!_ Come on, say it with me, now.


End file.
